


pas de deux

by RoseisaRoseisaRose



Series: Fluffcember 2020 [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blue Lions Route, F/M, Felix is a social disaster, Post Timeskip, you know how it goes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:42:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28276281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseisaRoseisaRose/pseuds/RoseisaRoseisaRose
Summary: A celebration breaks out when the Kingdom takes Fhirdiad. Dancing breaks out when there's a celebration. Felix Fraldarius stands in the corner of the palace ballroom and wishes he were anywhere else.And wonders why it feels like he's been here before.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Series: Fluffcember 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2046863
Comments: 10
Kudos: 50





	pas de deux

Felix couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to a banquet like this. Some terrible gathering in Fhirdiad before the coup, probably. In the last four years, there had been small gatherings in the chateaus of Kingdom noblemen with hushed conversations and perhaps a piano-forte, and there had been informal celebrations that broke out across army camps, raucous and loud and sprawling. Tonight was nothing like either of those. The retaking of Fhirdiad was worth something, Felix figured, leaning back against the wall and scanning the room. Still, he didn’t know how Dimitri – or maybe it was Gilbert? – had managed to find a troupe of musicians on such short notice. It had done the trick, however. The rather meager dinner options and poorly aged wine were far overshadowed by the joyous dancing that had broken out less than an hour into the evening. Felix leaned against the wall of the castle’s largest ballroom and watched the swirling colors of soldiers and officers and nobles alike as they twirled across the floor, changing partners at every turn. It made him dizzy.

“I’m surprised you even showed up to this,” said a voice at his elbow. “It seems like just the sort of thing you’d find a way to avoid.”

Felix looked down at Annette, who had been the last one to leave the healer’s tent that afternoon and the first one to find the dance floor that evening, dragging Mercedes after her with wild laughter. Her cheeks were tinged pink from the dancing, or the drink, or the laughter, and when she smiled up at him he wondered if she was laughing at him, as well.

“Once the war is over, there’s no getting out of this sort of thing,” Felix said, looking away from Annette to the pirouetting couples and trios on the dance floor. “Might as well get used to it.”

Annette giggled and bumped her shoulder against him. “You say that like it’s a bad thing!” she exclaimed, absolutely laughing at him. “What do you hate? The dancing? The music?”

“The people,” Felix said immediately. He’d spent too long convincing Annette he  _ didn’t  _ hate music to let one terse conversation undo all his hard work. And if she left this conversation thinking he could tolerate dancing . . . well, there were worse misapprehensions. He could let her think that. “If I want to talk to someone, I want to talk to them one-on-one. Not in an overcrowded hall somewhere.”

“Ah, you’re better at conversational sparring rather than a battlefield of small talk?” Annette supplied. She was so clearly pleased with her metaphor that Felix didn’t bother to point out he was just as talented on the battlefield as the training grounds in real life. Also, she was giving him such a curious look that he hesitated to interrupt her. Sure enough, after a long pause, she added almost shyly, “I always figured it was the dancing that made you leave, last time.”

Last time? Felix looked down at Annette, and suddenly everything about this scenario – the subpar musicians, Annette’s expertly braided updo, the excessive heat in the room – felt shockingly familiar. Had she been there, at that last terrible banquet in Fhirdiad? Hadn’t she gone back to Dominic after their year at the –

“You don’t mean the academy,” he said, suddenly figuring it out. Annette quirked an eyebrow at him and shrugged, now turning out to look at the dancing couples for herself.

“Yeah, obviously,” she said. Her voice was just a little too tight. “You left early from that, remember?”

“Well, yeah,” Felix said. “I mean, I probably did.” He could barely remember that night, except that Sylvain had been particularly obnoxious and Dorothea had tried to dance with him and Annette – well, he did remember Annette, dancing with everyone, smiling and laughing and making him wonder what fundamental  _ thing _ about all of this he was missing.

Annette laughed. It sounded vaguely forced. “You walked right by me on your way out. I thought for a second you were coming over to ask me to dance,” she said, laughing again. “I guess I didn’t really know you very well, to think that.”

This was all too familiar, Felix thought, the room and the music and Annette’s stupid, perfect hair and the way she looked up at him when she knew full well he didn’t have any worthwhile answers. “I, uh, yeah,” he offered. “I wouldn’t have done that to you, don’t worry.”

“Oh, I know better now that – don’t  _ worry _ ?” Annette echoed. “What do you mean?”

“Just that –” Felix waved his hand vaguely towards the dance floor, where Sylvain was sweeping Mercedes into a dramatic twirl and Ingrid had somehow convinced Dimitri, of all people, to try his hand at a waltz. “You actually enjoy these things. You’re good at . . . people. And dancing. And music. And everyone knows that. I wouldn’t take you away from something you love just because . . .” he trailed off, not even sure where his sentence was going at that point.

He flinched out of habit when Annette threaded her fingers through his, but she simply tugged on his arm until he looked at her again. “I mean,” she said, and her eyes so big and the room was so hot and the music in the background was clawing at his ears. “I  _ did _ kind of want you to ask, you know.”

“I . . . didn’t,” Felix said finally, once he remembered he needed to reply instead of just gape at her. “I didn’t know, I mean.”

And this was why he hated this sort of thing, because he was an idiot when he was seventeen and he was an idiot now and everyone in this room wanted to dance with Annette so why was he even  _ bothering _ to talk to her.

Or, well. Why was she even bothering to talk to him?

She was still talking to him. After five minutes and after five years, and in either case, it was kind of shocking.

“I could make up for it, now, I guess?” Felix ventured, feeling brave when her fingers curled into his and braver still when she smiled. “If you want,” he added quickly.

Annette was already pulling him into the center of the room, laughing and blushing and turning music into motion in a way he’d always envied. And Felix wouldn’t change his mind about parties, or banquets, or people as a whole. But when he looked back on that night, he could only remember it as if he and Annette were the only people in the room. And that, he decided, was something worth having.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like every time I write some fancy party for Felix and Annette, they don't dance because Felix is the worst. This is good for plot, I guess, but sometimes you don't want plot, you just want your two favorite characters to dance together without complications. 
> 
> And it still took me until the end of the fic! I don't know, guys. Dancing is hard.
> 
> Happy holidays, everyone! I hope you're safe and warm and merry, as much as is possible, wherever you are. [You can find me on twitter](https://twitter.com/Rose3Writes) if you want to say hi!


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